Destruction
by KlausXElena
Summary: A Klaus/Elena one-shot. "He can't die. The thought of his body lifeless sends a jolt through her. She hates it, yet loves it. (Much like him.)" She's lost it. It's official. Whatever little piece of sanity Elena had been holding on to was gone. There was no other way to explain her actions. This wasn't something a sane person did. A sane person ran from the danger


**A Klaus/Elena one-shot.** _"He can't die. The thought of his body lifeless sends a jolt through her. She hates it, yet loves it. (Much like him.)"_ She's lost it. It's official. Whatever little piece of sanity Elena had been holding on to was gone. There was no other way to explain her actions. This wasn't something a sane person did. A sane person ran from the danger, ran from the monsters that lurked in the darkness, waiting for their chance to strike. But Elena ran to the monster. (She always had.) Her legs are like lead. Her lungs burn. Her head aches. Her world has an unnatural brightness to it. But she doesn't stop running. (She never stops running.) She has to get there before they do. She has to warn him. Nothing else matters right now. He has to know. He can't die. The thought of his body lifeless sends a jolt through her. She hates it, yet loves it. (Much like him.) She's not sure how long it takes to get there. She just runs and runs and runs. Then she's in front of his apartment, and she can breathe, even against the burning in her lungs. He allows her to breathe. (Into him, around him, with him.) She's a mess when she bursts through the door. Chest heaving as she sucks in gasping breathes. Hair a tangled mess from the wind. Body covered with a light perspiration. He regards her with a curious amusement. As though this all amuses him. It probably does. But the hurried words that spill from her throat extinguish the playfulness. "They're coming. They have a plan. They're going to kill you. Run, you need to run. Please, take whatever-" He has her pinned against the wall by her throat before she can utter another word. The oxygen supply to her body is cut off as he stares down at her, eyes unreadable. She's not scared of him, and it makes no sense. He's slowly killing her, and his touch brings warmth. (Maybe she really has lost it.) After a moment, her body kicks into action. She needs air. Her hands come to wrap up around his, tugging uselessly. Her eyes beg, let me go, please, I didn't betray you, I never would, I promise. He drops his hand, but holds his ground. He's still pressed up against her in all the worst and best ways possible. (It feels so good, and she hates herself a little bit.) His eyes are an ice green as they meet hers, and they set her body alight. (Is she always going to be so backwards?) She holds her breath, and he doesn't breathe. They just stare. Brown meets green, and it's a raging storm of emotions. Hate, distrust, longing, trust, disgust, lust, love, hate. She's just so confused. It's always so confusing with him. (But it's so easy.) _I'm sorry._ She doesn't say it out loud. Because she's unsure whether it would be a truth or a lie. She can't stand the thought of him dead, cold, unmoving. But she can't forgive him for everything he has done. A part of her will always hate him, and that part was why she helped with the plan in the first place. But she just _can't._(She never could.) He's closer now, and she nearly jumps because, _when exactly did he move? _Things like that don't really matter though when he brushes his lips against hers. It's bruising and claiming. (She loves it.) He takes her even though she doesn't belong to him. And she lets him. Because it's them, and that's reason enough. Lips and hands meet and move and explore and taste and feel. It's over as quickly as it started. Her head is reeling when he pulls back, and she feels the cocky smirk spread across his lips. Because he has her, the one thing she was never meant to her give up, and he knows it. She doesn't fight it. She's so tired of fight. _"Niklaus."_ His gaze burns as the word spills from her mouth. It's not often she calls him that. She knows he loves it when she does. It's something she's noticed. He's so open yet so closed. (She wonders vaguely if she'll ever make sense again.) Her eyes flutter shut when he cups her face, and leans in once again. His kiss is a feather touch. And then it's cold, so cold. When she gathers the courage to open her eyes. (It takes longer than she'll ever admit.) He's gone. And she's left, broken, in their destruction.

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**Authors note: this isnt my story i found it on a tumblr page **


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